Mirrors
by Stained Blue
Summary: Everyone's in fragments. Close one eye, step to the side.


Title: Mirrors  
Pairing: Batman/Bane  
Note: Not mine…told from Bane's perspective

He stared at the man before him, mentally running through weaknesses and possible advantages. There were few of the latter, and below his mask he smiled. Within the muscled confines of his chest, his heartbeat quickened just barely. That low gravelly voice touched his ears, "You just made a serious mistake," directed at the little kitty on the other side of the heavy door of the catwalk. He would break this man. "Not as serious as you just made." His voice made the Batman spin around, and he couldn't help but want to make this man feel terror.

"Bane." The smile curled his lips a little more. "Let us not stand on ceremony Mr. Wayne." He could see those eyes widen just barely above the black face paint before they narrowed. He heard the growl, saw the shift, and relaxed.

Wayne threw himself into the fight, and he took the hits as if they were nothing. They barely reached him through the numbness filtering through his veins. He was sorely tempted to chuckle. Instead, he caught those gauntlet covered fists and held the slighter, taller man still. "Peace has cost you your strength. Victory has defeated you." He forced a gauntlet back into that cowl, kicking Wayne backward.

He toyed with Wayne, until finally the Batman let out an enraged growl and fought back. He let his body rock with the punches, accepted the motions as normalcy, until he felt the Batman's confidence had had enough. He blocked the next volley of punches easily, and sent Wayne over the railing of the catwalk with a solid kick to the chest. He watched as Wayne flailed his way toward the fast-approaching concrete.

He was unsurprised as Wayne landed spryly on his feet, crouched and looking for a fight. And he was helpless but to follow, a cat playing with the wounded mouse. He moved easily down the chain, quickly. When his feet touched the concrete, he could sense the exhaustion in Wayne's body. He grabbed the older man, swung him around and slammed him into a pillar, listened to the gasp of breath that escaped the man before him.

Finally, Wayne seemed to find some more fight in him, breaking his hold and forcing him back. He let his body be rocked, swayed backward, lulling the Batman into security. The hand on the back of his skull kept him bent, but he could feel each blow before it landed, could sense it. After all, they were basically the same. They had been taught by the same man.

He grew tired of the volley of hits and landed a sharp blow to Wayne's cowl-covered skull. He felt the plastic crack under his fist. The Batman staggered, fell, and he stepped forward to land a swift kick to the exposed underbelly, sending the other man sprawling into the stairs. He watched as Wayne struggled to get up, to move as quickly as his damaged and exhausted body would allow. He followed easily, drawn by the grunts and bellows from the man before him.

He dodged the first attack, catching the other unprepared and sent him crashing back against the railing. He almost felt a little bad as Wayne seemed to lose all fight, even as his fists landed heavily on the Kevlar-covered frame. Finally, he kicked the Batman squarely in the chest, sending him flying backwards to land on his back.

Small explosions cut the air around him. He couldn't help but smile with numb lips. "Theatricality and deception are powerful agents to the uninitiated... but we are initiated, aren't we Bruce? Members of the League of Shadows!" Batman stepped to him, and he dodged the attack easily, before finally catching hold of the other. His hand curled around Wayne's tender neck, his other grasping hold of a fistful of cape, pulling that body closer to his, "And you betrayed us."

Slowly, he began to walk backward, staring up into those barely schooled eyes. Finally, the Dark Knight found his voice, though rough it was from his treatment, "You were excommunicated…by a gang of psychopaths!" The lingering smile became more of a snarl, and his fist swung up heavily connecting under Wayne's ribs. He tossed the Batman from him.

"I _am_ the League of Shadows. And I'm here to fulfill Ra's al Ghul's destiny." He lifted his hands. He watched as Batman slowly got to his feet and ran at him, growling the whole way. He let the slighter man impact with him, let his body go with the flow, and felt his neck twist under the blows as Wayne crouched over him, each punch accented by a grunt from the Dark Knight.

In the second before Wayne could pull back for another punch, he yanked the Batman down, letting the cowl-covered skull impact with his. He threw the slighter man from his frame, watched as the exhausted body rolled and bounced along the grate flooring. He got to his feet, watching as Wayne tried to struggle to his. "You fight like a younger man, with nothing held back. Admirable but mistaken."

The lights cut, and he couldn't help but smile from behind the mask. "Oh, you think darkness is your ally. But you merely adopted the dark; I was born in it, moulded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but BLINDING!" He snatched Wayne out of the shadows, spun him around slowly and landed a heavy blow to the Batman's chest. The other fell back against the metal pool, and he could hear Wayne gasping for breath above the water's rush. "The shadows betray you because they belong to me."

His fist connected with the hard plastic of the Batman's cowl, cracking it further until the crack had spread noticeably long the surface, barely sticking together. He pulled back, walking slowly back along the water's rushing path. "I will show you where I have made my home while preparing to bring justice. Then I will break you." Above him, the ceiling shook, letting chucks of plaster and concrete shudder free to settle about them. "Your precious armory, gratefully accepted. We will be needing it." He watched his men climb into the wound in the building to begin pillaging.

He watched as Wayne struggled to his feet, and he couldn't help but smile once more. "Ah yes…I was wondering what would break first. Your spirit," he smacked Wayne upside the head, knocking the other to his knees. He watched as Wayne collapsed, and slowly he bent at the waist and hoisted the slighter man up above his head, "or your body."And he brought the form of the Batman down across his bent knee. He dropped the limp body to the ground harshly, watching the form bounce just barely.

Slowly, he pulled off part of the cowl, revealing Wayne's face. That almost prim mouth had a smear of blood, and he felt a twinge in him. The older man had been a worthy opponent. But he had destruction to plan, war to wage, justice to deal out. He looked down into the half cowl, glanced back at Wayne, and walked away. The Batman wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

That night, while he sat amongst all the wonderful weapons in the armory, he sent men to gather the broken man and bring him forth.

He watched as the Batman flopped to the ground once his men dropped the Caped Crusader, a puddle of black on the unforgiving floor. Slowly, he got to his feet and approached Wayne. He watched as the man tried to move, tried to struggle. Lightly, he slid his boot up under the Batman's stomach, flipping the slighter man over. He stared down into those pained eyes, and in them he found defiance.

Crouching down, he grasped the Batman's jaw, turning that face toward him. "Your spirit is still not broken, though your body surely is." Those prim lips parted to reprimand, but his hand slipped down to barely crush that throat, cutting off any thought of words. He pulled Wayne up on his level, staring down into those eyes.

"You are a curious man." The struggled gasping of breath made him lessen his grip just barely. "I wonder…if there is anything I could do to break you completely." And there was silence in the room, just the uneven sounds of their breathing. He forced his fingers between Wayne's breastplate and skin, before standing and dragging the man with him.

The broken body beside him let out a soft noise of pain as he dragged it callously over the floor. He could not help but feel something for Wayne, for this man who was so willing to surrender life, body, and sanity to protect a city so ungrateful. He lifted Wayne up and slung the broken man over his shoulder without breaking stride.

He pushed his way into his closed off room, dropping the Bat on his little cot. The man gave a groan and curled in on himself just barely. He sat on the cot near the back of Wayne's thighs, looking down on the wounded man much the way a bird inspects a bug. He decided to break apart the shiny exoskeleton and expose the tender endoskeleton.

His fingertips pried the Kevlar open just barely until he could slip his fingers in further, his hands curling about the hard fabric. He yanked hard. The fabric broke and tore, filling the air with a tremendous ruckus. Those dark eyes stared up at him, exuding a light that somehow infuriated him. It seemed to taunt him with a vitality that even the broken body before him couldn't stunt.

Grasping the sharp cut of Wayne's hip, he jerked the other over onto his stomach. He fumbled with his trousers for just a moment, shoving them down around his thighs. Slowly, he climbed on top of the Batman, his body pressing against the slightly sweaty skin of Wayne's back. The cot's mattress groaned softly under their combined weight, and Wayne let out a soft wail as his weight settled on the Batman's broken back.

Easily, he tore the Caped Crusader's underwear from his skin, at last exposing all of the wounded hero to the night air's touch. He bent down, his lips near Wayne's ear. "By the end of this, you'll wish I had killed you." He grasped his limp member and gave a few harsh tugs until it began to swell. After a few moments, he deemed his erection to be satisfactory.

Sharply, he swiveled his hips to the Batman's firm backside, pressing heavily past protective muscles. Wayne cried out at the sharp pain, and he could see the bruised fingers struggling to curl around the edge of the cot. He chuckled to himself softly. Harshly, he pressed his hand down in between Wayne's shoulder blades, forcing the bare chest to the cot. A raw, wounded sound tore itself free from the expanses of the Batman's chest.

There was nothing in it, no feelings spared as all his attention was drawn to the Caped Crusader's reactions. The struggle to make a fist, the gritted teeth, the jaw set against the pain, and still those dark eyes screwed tightly shut. His lips curled away from his teeth in a snarled smile. His broad hand curled about Wayne's skull, his fingertips digging in sharply, and he thrust the other's face roughly into the mattress.

He could feel the weak struggle as Wayne tried to force himself away from the suffocating grip of the sheets. He could feel the muscles of the strong shoulders now stricken with near paralysis struggling to lift the Batman's head. Chuckling a little, he lifted his hand, his fingers yanking the Caped Crusader's head back sharply. He stared into those glaring eyes, twisting harder on the hair until the Batman's head was forced to the side to avoid the neck being snapped.

His thrusts grew rougher, pulling nearly all the way out before crushing his hips against the other's sharp buttocks. He could smell the sharp coppery scent of blood, and it struck the bloodlust within him, setting it alit. He balanced his hands on either side of the broken body twisted under him and focused on the simplistic, animalistic motions of his hips. He bent his head, breathing harshly at the hard movements.

He could smell the sharp, wounded tang of the Batman's sweat, his blood. He could feel the other's pulse, imprinting itself on his body where their skins touched. And in the quiet moments before he drew his next breath, he could hear the rattling breath of the wounded man under him. Balancing all his weight on one hand, he grasped hard at the Batman's skull again, forcing the hero's face against the mattress.

The sullen, sharp pleasure of his orgasm tightened around his spine, boiling in his stomach. He pressed the Caped Crusader's face harder into the mattress, taking even more delight as he felt the man beneath him begin to struggle under his tight grip. The moment the weak struggle slackened completely, the broken man going limp under him, his release bit sharply into the base of his spine.

Roughly, he tore his body from Wayne's, his momentum dragging the limp body off the small cot. The room was filled with the animal smell of the rut, blood, and sweat. Sneering down at the Batman, he pulled his trousers up and spit on the broad, exposed back. Striding silently from the room, he snapped his fingers, calling attention to guards lingering nearby, calling the words over his shoulder as he couldn't even be bothered to stop.

"Please transport Mister Wayne to that God-forsaken hole. And when he comes to, tell him I'll see him soon."


End file.
